


Nothing Fair In This World

by gundamoocow



Series: It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Forced Marriage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Kylo Amidala, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Non-Consensual Mind Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/pseuds/gundamoocow
Summary: Armitage had been too patient, waited too long to enact his plans to dispose of his father. Now, as he was being marched into a shuttle, it was far too late.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085279
Comments: 16
Kudos: 90





	Nothing Fair In This World

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU, another wedding. This can be read independently of the other fics in this series.
> 
> Detailed warnings are in the end notes.

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Maratelle asked, shifting on the low, garishly opulent sofa. She looked down her nose at Armitage, even though he was standing and she was sitting.

"I thought father summoned me to discuss my promotion."

Just then, Brendol burst into the room with a domestic droid trailing behind him, carrying a tray with two glasses of Arkanisian gin on ice. He handed one to Maratelle and took one for himself. They clinked their glasses together and knocked back each one.

"I've found a far better use for you, boy," Brendol boomed, even though Armitage was standing only a few feet from him. "Turns out the New Republic doesn't give a bantha's arse that you're a bastard!"

Armitage's blood ran cold. "Why-why is that important?" He cursed himself immediately for stuttering.

"For _peace!_ " Maratelle exclaimed. "Hiding in the shadows and preparing for war is so _tedious_ , isn't it my dear?" She looked to Brendol, pouting her bright red lips. It made Armitage sick.

"Yes, it is," Brendol cooed.

This was not the Brendol that Armitage knew.

"Well?" Maratelle asked. "Shall we tell him the good news?"

"Pack your things, boy," Brendol barked. "You're going to marry Senator Organa's son. The one who dolls himself up like a Naboo princess. What does he call himself these days?"

Armitage's heart started to pound. This couldn't possibly be real. He wasn't even out to Brendol, or anybody, really. And that was beside the point; he couldn't just drop the military career he'd spent his whole life building up.

"Something Amidala, like his grandmother," Maratelle answered. "He's a senator now, too, Armitage."

The title of "senator" in the pathetic and corrupt New Republic was as good as being the head pig in a pig sty. But that, too, was _beside the point!_ Armitage clenched his fists.

"No," Armitage said quietly. "I will _not_ be sidelined."

Brendol took two steps towards Armitage and backhanded him across the face. Now that was the Brendol he knew well.

" _You_ ," Brendol said, grabbing Armitage by the lapel, scrunching the fabric in his fist, "are a weak, useless thing, creating nothing but a nuisance since the day you were born!"

Armitage wished he was past the point of Brendol's words crushing him from the inside. He tried to focus on Brendol's putrid breath instead, anything to stave off any reaction except stoicism.

It didn't work. Armitage muttered, "Very well, sir," and scuffled out of the room to the sound of Maratelle's cruel laughter.

Back in his room, Armitage screamed. Years in the academy, _years_ working his way up the ranks, all just to be sold off as some chattel. Brendol was going to destroy everything the First Order stood for, and for what? Probably a great deal of credits. Pathetic.

Morning came. Armitage had not packed a single thing by the time a pair of stormtroopers with their blasters pointed came knocking at his door.

Armitage had been too patient, waited too long to enact his plans to dispose of his father. Now, as he was being marched into a shuttle, it was far too late.

He could have tried to bargain with the pilot or his "escort" of guards. Ordinary stormtroopers might have been persuaded, but knowing Brendol, these were his most trusted soldiers, brainwashed to be loyal until their dying breath. Instead, he sat staring at the wall in front of him for the seven hours of hyperspace travel it took to get to presumably Hosnian Prime, trying not to think about the horrors that awaited him.

Upon landing, Armitage was greeted by six black-hooded and masked figures, along with Senator Organa herself. Armitage tried to focus on them, and not the fact that the shuttle stood on a small platform atop a very high tower, with the rest of the city well below.

"You must be Armitage," Organa said as soon as Armitage walked down the shuttle's ramp.

Organa had been a thorn in the First Order's side from day one. If he'd been armed, Armitage would have loved to take her down and serve her head on a platter to Brendol. Surely with that, Brendol would re-appoint him to his previous post, and most certainly promote him.

As if she heard exactly what Armitage was thinking, Organa frowned. "I'm sure my son will sort you out," she muttered.

With that, she turned her back and walked away. Behind Armitage, the ramp closed with a foreboding finality. Ahead of them, a set of doors opened and Organa passed through them. With the robed figures surrounding him, Armitage had no choice except to follow. The corridors inside were brightly lit and very much empty of any obvious show of wealth. They kept walking until they reached a lift, which Organa entered, but as Armitage attempted to get in after her, one of the robed figures stopped him with a gentle hand to his chest.

"Ben's Knights will look after you from here," she said just as the door closed.

Did Organa mean these robed figures? They did not seem like knights to Armitage. With their long flowing robes and dark masks, they more resembled handmaidens to some dark princess in an old Arkanisian fairy tale. Thankfully, they made no attempt to speak to Armitage as they led him down another corridor and into a lift to take him to whatever cursed destination they had for him.

This lift opened to an outdoor platform. Armitage had half a mind to run for it. The city was big. Perhaps he could lose the "knights" if he tried. However, he didn't even get the chance. Two of the Knights took him by one arm each and walked him directly into a waiting transport. As soon as they were inside, Armitage shook them off and slumped into a seat next to a window, not that he cared particularly for the view. This whole planet could burn, as far as Armitage was concerned.

The transport came to a stop at a dimly lit platform. Again, Armitage was ushered out and led through corridors and lifts until arriving at an ornate entranceway. Instead of durasteel, there was an arch of carved marble stone framing the door. Armitage didn’t get a good look before the door opened and a nudge from one of the Knights pushed him inside.

“No!” A man’s voice echoed from some nearby room. “These can’t be paired!”

One of the Knights walked further into the suite and out of sight. Immediately, Armitage heard heavy footsteps coming his way. He braced himself, waiting for this Amidala character to stand before him so he could spit in his face.

“Sir!” a woman’s voice called out. “We’re not finished--”

No amount of preparation could have gotten Armitage ready for the sight before him: a man taller than himself and far broader, with black hair wound into some complex headdress and a painted face, marching directly towards him. He seemed only half-dressed, with some sheer fabric hanging off one shoulder while the rest was held in place around the waist by a golden cincher. The entire left half of his muscled chest was exposed, showing off a shimmering ring that hung from his nipple.

Armitage stared, his jaw almost to the floor, as two attendants fussed over the man, one trying to pin bits of fabric together while the other hovered around him, waving a brush and palette of paint. He waved them away as if they were buzzing blowflies.

“You must be Armitage Hux,” the man said, looking Armitage up and down, evaluating him. “I’m Kylo Amidala, senator representing Naboo.”

The ring through Kylo Amidala’s nipple swung slightly as he spoke. As soon as Armitage realised how much his gaze was lingering, he stood ramrod straight and looked Kylo in the eye, furrowing his brow. He was not going to acquiesce to this spectacle of a man.

Kylo took a step forward and raised his arm. Reflexively, Armitage flinched, but a hit never came. Instead, he felt a gentle touch of warm fingers on his temple. A rush of feelings and memories started to flow unbidden. Rage at being sent away. The academy. Hunger. Fear. Crumbling star destroyers. Brendol and other members of High Command humiliating him, forcing him to his knees. Then, Armitage was suddenly back in the moment, eyes wet, standing pitifully in front of this tricked out senator.

"Hmm," Kylo hummed to himself, then mumbled, "My mother was right."

Right about what? Armitage felt too broken down to ask.

"The ceremony is tomorrow at noon," Kylo stated. Then, to his Knights, "Get him ready."

The Knights took him to some other corner of the suite and deposited him in a room, closing and locking the door behind them. Armitage looked around. The room was sizable, bigger than his quarters on his old ship. There was a dresser with a mirror, plants hanging from mounts on the walls, a holoprojector in one corner. Behind one door was a large refresher with a water bath that could easily accommodate two people. Behind another, a storage closet seemingly dedicated to only clothing and shoes, though the only items inside were a bath robe and slippers.

Just as Armitage collapsed on the rather comfortable bed, the door opened and a group of three people came in, two women and a man, followed by a droid.

They proceeded to torture him.

He was stripped, bathed, and plucked. His hair was trimmed, his face was shaved. Various concoctions were slathered onto his skin, then peeled off, then replaced with some kind of oil and massaged into him. No part of his body was spared, not even his most intimate areas. His hands and feet were soaked in buckets, then patted dry, then fingernails and toenails clipped and filed and painted with a clear liquid. Every inch of him was measured and assessed.

"There," one of them had the gall to say when it was all over, hours later. "Doesn't that feel a lot better?"

"All you need now is a good night's rest!" proclaimed another.

Exhausted and hungry after their departure, Armitage curled up on the bed, wrapped in the robe. His respite was brief. Just as he began to doze off, a droid burst into the room, dragging in a clothes rack populated with clothing. The colours were mostly dark blues and greens and reds, with some whites mixed in. Without a word, the droid populated the storage closet with them, then left.

With nothing better to do, Armitage rummaged through the selection. The material was all astoundingly soft. He picked out the most plain looking outfit: a simple dark green robe with a black sash. He was about to put it on when yet another new person entered the room.

"Don't trouble yourself with that," they said, then proceeded to help Armitage dress himself as if he was a helpless infant.

Next, he was ushered into another room, where there was a table with a spread of small bowls of food. Two of the Knights stood by, silent as usual, while Armitage ate by himself. Armitage had feared there would be some exotic cuisine that he wouldn't be able to swallow down, but the food was thankfully only mildly spiced and nothing was still alive. After that, the Knights returned him to what he took to be his room and locked him in.

The chrono on the wall told him it was evening here, finally. Hopefully, that meant no more disturbances, because with his stomach full, all he could think of was resting his head on the pillow and sleeping for a hundred years. Insurrection could wait, for now.

He slept soundly, with no dreams to plague his mind, until his torturers returned in the morning. Between the bustle of them setting up a new array of torture implements, a service droid brought him a brewed drink made from fruits and vegetables unrecognisable to Armitage. In the absence of any other sustenance, Armitage drank it down and resigned himself to whatever these people had in store for him.

"We couldn't find any information about wedding customs from your home planet," one of the torturers explained as he draped more and more shimmering silver fabric on Armitage, "so we went for something neutral to complement Senator Amidala's outfit."

Armitage looked down at himself, his mind boggling over the intricately embroidered trim on the fabric and the jewel-encrusted belt around his waist. _This_ was considered _neutral?_ He rolled his eyes.

No one on Arkanis would have been caught dead in a get-up like this unless it was for a masquerade, and even then, it would have been more subdued.

When they finished with his outfit, a woman sat him down and started working on his face.

"Can you please keep it toned down?" Armitage asked, hoping for at least some concession. "I have no desire to look like a jester."

The woman snorted. "A natural look, then?" she asked.

"Please."

Somehow, she still spent a good hour on him while one of the others styled his hair.

The torturers left, and Armitage had only a minute to compose himself before the Knights returned. He followed them out of the suite and into a transport -- a different one from before, more bright and elegant inside. They traveled for what seemed like almost an hour. Without a datapad or any work to think about, Armitage had nothing on his mind except this impending event that he had no control over and wanted no part of.

They pulled up in front of a building with a facade of marbled stone, much like the entrance of Kylo's suite. Perhaps that had some cultural significance. Armitage didn't know and didn't care about their pathetic customs.

"Out," one of the Knights spoke. Their voice came through a vocoder.

Hux sighed and got to his feet. They led him inside, through a grand lobby, and then stopped in front of a very tall set of doors.

"We will walk you inside," the Knight said. "You will walk up the aisle following my pace. When we get to the dais, you will step up to join our Master while we stand to the sides. You are not to speak until you are told to by the celebrant."

Armitage nodded once.

Two of the Knights opened the door, and Armitage began the procession with the rest. The hall before him was grand and could easily accommodate hundreds of people, but there were only around two dozen there. In the front stood Kylo, towering over the petit celebrant. He was dressed in something even more elaborate than the day before, with a long trailing tail waterfalling behind him down the dais steps.

As soon as Armitage took his place next to Kylo, the celebrant began to speak.

"Today, we join in marriage Armitage Hux of Arkanis, son of Brendol Hux, and Senator Kylo Amidala of Chandrila, also known as Ben Solo, son of Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan and Captain Han Solo of Corellia."

Armitage had a rank and his father was a commandant. Why were their ranks left out?

The celebrant droned on about what marriage symbolised and how special their union was. What utter drivel. The contractual part of the ceremony was the only thing of importance, so why bother with the rest?

"Do you, Kylo Amidala, take Armitage Hux as your lawfully wedded spouse?"

"I do," Kylo said.

"Do you, Armitage Hux, take Kylo Amidala as your lawfully wedded spouse?"

What choice did he have? "I do."

"With power vested in me by the Hosnian Prime Office of Family Affairs, I now declare you legally bound in matrimony. You may now kiss."

Armitage’s blood froze in his veins. He turned to look at Kylo, who was already facing him and pulling back a veil that had been covering his face. His make-up was ridiculous. Dots painted on his cheeks, a vertical stripe on his lips, dark shading around his eyes, eyebrows all but blotted out. Armitage closed his eyes and waited for this humiliating act to be over.

The kiss was brief. The tiniest touch, there and gone in a split second. Armitage opened his eyes again and saw that Kylo had turned to face their small audience, so Armitage did the same. He spotted Organa looking none too pleased, despite being the one to organise this fiasco. The others were unfamiliar, applauding politely even though they must have known that Armitage was their enemy.

Kylo took Armitage’s hand and walked him back up the aisle. Armitage glanced over his shoulder, confirming that the Knights were indeed following, too.

"Was that it?" Armitage asked, once they exited through the tall doors.

"Normally, there would be a dinner and a reception, but not this time."

A thought stuck Armitage. "Is this marriage a secret?"

"Mmm."

Why would someone who was practically royalty have a secret wedding? Especially one condoned by their parents? Armitage mulled it over in his head for the entire duration of the transport back to Kylo's suite. Brendol was clearly happy about the circumstances, which usually meant that planetary control or something equally substantial was involved.

Armitage pondered this, but arrived at no clear answer by the time they were back in the suite.

"Come," Kylo said, beckoning Armitage to his bedroom. "We need to consummate this."

"Excuse me?" Armitage looked around for the Knights, but they had all vanished.

"This is a political union. You and I both know that, but the marriage has to be consummated."

Armitage clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. "Do you really expect me to bend over for you?"

Kylo shrugged. "The requirement is intimacy."

That was almost worse. If it came down to a forced fuck, Armitage could grit his teeth and bear it. But _intimacy?_ What a load of nonsense.

"And if I refuse?"

Kylo's face fell. He sighed, then looked up at Armitage with surprisingly sad eyes and reached towards him. Before Armitage could ask what in the galaxy Kylo was doing, an invisible grip enveloped him and dragged him right into Kylo's arms.

"Are you some kind of Jedi?" Armitage cried out in alarm. They were basically extinct, were they not? His heart hammered in his chest, panicking over the implications.

"A Jedi?" Kylo snorted. "No. Their ways are dead, only held up by a few stragglers."

"Then--"

"I have my own path."

Armitage struggled, but it was for nought; Kylo held on to him, both physically and supernaturally, and steadily dragged him into his bedroom.

"You're upset," Kylo whispered, his lips brushing against Armitage’s temple. "I know. But I had a vision, shared with my mother. Bringing you here has significant influence over the fate of the galaxy."

"Oh, really?" Armitage challenged. He wasn't about to fall for such bollocks. "I'm _so_ important that my father cast me aside without a second thought?"

"You came at a high price," said Kylo.

"Yes, sold off for some spoiled prince to fuck. Spare me the bantha shit and get this over with."

Kylo released him, looking defeated. "You'll understand, in time."

Armitage huffed and crossed his arms. 

"But you're right," Kylo said. "We should get this over with. Help me undress."

Kylo turned to face away, clearly uninterested in whether or not Armitage would willingly assist. Armitage sighed. "What do I do?"

"There's a hidden clasp holding the sash together at the back."

Armitage felt around until he found it and unclipped it. Kylo carefully unwrapped the sash and draped it on a chair.

"Now the modesty panel."

"The what?"

"It covers the lacing. There are a few hooks. You'll see."

Armitage traced the seam around the heavily embroidered fabric until he found the hooks and undid them one by one. When he pulled the panel off completely, he saw what Kylo had been talking about: a long row of lacing running the entire length of Kylo's spine.

"Why do you dress like this?" Armitage asked as he loosened the knots in the cord lacing Kylo's dress together.

"Because of my grandmother," Kylo said, as if that explained anything.

When the lacing was loose enough, a sliver of skin started peering through. Armitage tried to pay it no mind, but as he kept going, there was more and more of it, and Armitage couldn't help but notice the dark moles dotting Kylo's pale skin here and there.

"I can take it from here," Kylo said. He proceeded to wiggle his way out bit by bit until it was open enough that he could step out of the dress completely, leaving him in only boots and ridiculous lace-trimmed underwear. After draping the dress over the chair, he turned to face Armitage once again.

Armitage’s gaze shot straight to the nipple rings. There was one ring through each nipple, with a thin chain of jewels hanging from each ring. Around Kylo’s neck was a dark multi-stranded necklace dotted with black gems. The strands splayed across his pectorals, coming to a point in between them.

“You can touch whatever you want,” Kylo said. “Go ahead.”

No, Armitage couldn’t. Touching would seal his acquiescence to this charade. To acquiesce would show weakness. Despite what deals were made behind his back, these people were still his enemies.

“Here,” Kylo said, taking Armitage’s hand in his and placing it on his chest.

It was warm, heat radiating from the muscle like a furnace. Armitage closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. He shouted at himself to pull his hand away and march right out of this room, but his fingertips slid down Kylo’s substantial pectoral until they met his nipple. Gently, he rubbed the tip of his index finger over the little nib, then across the point where metal disappeared into his flesh. He traced the finger around the ring. When he got to the chain dangling from the bottom, he gave it a gentle tug. Kylo let out a grunt, barely audible, but enough to shoot straight to Armitage’s core.

“It’s okay,” Kylo whispered, close enough that his hot breath was in Armitage’s ear. “Accept what you feel. Use it.”

Nonsense upon nonsense, yet Armitage tentatively put his other hand on Kylo’s side, sliding it down until he felt the lacy waistband of Kylo’s ridiculous underwear. He wasn’t ready to go lower, not yet, but he followed the waistband around to Kylo’s back, then up his spine. There was so much muscle, more than even a highly trained stormtrooper would have.

“I want to suck you,” Kylo said, his voice low and gravelly. “Will you let me?”

Immediately, Armitage’s cock shot to full rigidity. He dug his nails into Kylo’s muscular flesh, once again trying to steady himself, but Kylo moaned deep in his throat, and all Armitage could do was nod.

Kylo’s hands moved behind Armitage’s back, unclasping his belt. He cast it aside, then unwrapped layers of fabric until he reached the opening of Armitage’s robe and loosened it.

Armitage only opened his eyes again when he sensed Kylo kneel before him, his knees quietly thudding against the floor.

Okay.

Senator Kylo Amidala, the not-Jedi prince of what-have-you, with his stupid make-up and dark, sad eyes, was on his knees in a clear show of submission.

Armitage held his breath as Kylo leaned forward, took Armitage’s briefs between his teeth and pulled them down, exposing Armitage’s erect cock. There was no time to prepare; Kylo licked his painted lips and swallowed Armitage down in a single stroke. Armitage gasped, covering his mouth, then bit down on his hand to stop from crying out as Kylo took him into his hot, wet mouth. As Kylo bobbed his head up and down Armitage’s shaft, a moan involuntarily left his throat, and any remaining efforts to keep quiet failed spectacularly. He barely knew what he was saying -- _yes_ and _more_ and _please_ \-- and Kylo delivered on each and every request until Armitage was at the precipice of a crescendo.

Then it stopped. More precisely, the climax never came, but Armitage remained on the edge. Kylo looked up at him, red paint smeared across his lips and eye make-up pooling at the corners of his eyes, threatening to stream down his face.

“Wha--”

Kylo stood. He wrapped a hand loosely around Armitage’s cock and stroked the underside gently with his fingertips, like he was going to tickle Armitage’s orgasm from him. Kylo walked backwards to his oversized bed and Armitage helplessly followed, led by nothing but Kylo’s infernal fingers. When they could go no further, Kylo sat back on the bed and pulled Armitage onto him. Armitage had enough dignity -- though only barely -- not to immediately rub himself off on Kylo’s lace panties and the monstrous erection that lurked beneath the struggling fabric. He rolled off, unsure of how long he could stand not giving in to that final humiliation. Kylo rolled with him, then on top, covering Armitage completely with his massive body. They were nose-to-nose now, far too close for Armitage’s liking.

“Can I fuck you?” Kylo asked, breathless. “Just there,” he said, sliding his fingers just below Armitage’s balls. “Between your thighs.”

“Fine, fine,” Armitage said, claiming the victory of being last to succumb, as feeble a victory as it was. “Just promise you’ll finish me off.”

Kylo nodded and reached out. A small bottle flew into his hand from some unseen place. Kylo ripped the stopper out of it and poured the oily liquid inside all over Armitage’s thighs, without a care that it was dripping on Armitage’s no doubt expensive clothing. He shimmied out of his underwear, freeing a cock that hung so heavy between his legs that it looked painful. Kylo slathered that with oil too, then lowered himself down, sliding his cock between Armitage’s thighs.

“Stars,” Armitage gasped as he felt the whole hot length of it slide against his skin.

“Squeeze your legs together,” Kylo said, and Armitage did. “Yeah. Like that.”

Could Kylo even fuck someone properly with that thing? Armitage had never seen anything like it, even in holos.

“It takes some work,” Kylo whispered in Armitage’s ear, then started fucking his thighs in long, steady strokes.

Armitage didn’t have the capacity to contemplate that Kylo had quite clearly just read his mind, because a moment later, he grabbed Armitage’s cock with his slippery hand and began to pump it. Armitage cried out helplessly as Kylo brought him right back to the edge and over it. Ages of tension dropped from Armitage’s body in one swift blow as he came and came, spilling over Kylo’s hand.

While Armitage was still coming, Kylo pulled out from between Armitage’s thighs and lined his cock up with Armitage’s. He stroked them both together a couple of times, then came with a grunt, splattering his spend all over Armitage's abdoment.

When Armitage’s consciousness gradually came back to him, Kylo was lying snugly against him, with his lips against Armitage’s temple. He seemed to be snoozing.

Had that been it? Obligation fulfilled, and all that? The pragmatic thing to do was to get up and leave, but Armitage had nothing to do and nowhere to go except to his room at the other end of the suite.

“What happens now?” Armitage asked, nudging Kylo with his elbow.

Kylo propped himself up on one elbow, his make-up now completely ruined. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t mean that. You wanted me here for a reason. What is it?”

Kylo looked down and chewed on his lip for a bit, getting red paint on his teeth. “We need you on our side.”

“The New Republic?” Armitage balked. “You know I--”

“Not the New Republic,” Kylo said. “There’s more going on than you know.”

Armitage rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, the fate of the galaxy. Organa is obsessed with getting rid of Imperial remnants because of our supposed existential threat. This is hardly news to me.”

“My mother wants you here because you _personally_ pose an existential threat. _I_ want you here to help me bring order to the New Republic. Our marriage was a concession.”

Brendol had been a fool to agree to their terms, no matter what he had been promised. “I suppose you intend to soften me up enough to tell you all of our secrets. You should know that I’ve been trained to resist interrogation.”

Kylo took a deep breath. “I already have what I need.”

Armitage’s eyes widened.

Sheepishly, Kylo brushed Armitage’s hair from his forehead, then rested his fingers on Armitage’s temple. “Like this,” he said, tapping gently. “I can take whatever I want.”

Then Armitage remembered -- the strange thing Kylo had done, when Armitage first arrived. “What did you see?”

“Enough.”

Then it was over. There were things Brendol was privy to that Armitage was not. But strategic locations, the First Order’s structure and plans, identities of high command personnel -- those things were all known to Armitage.

“I don’t understand why you’re keeping me alive at all.”

“You will,” Kylo assured, then sat up and stretched his arms. “We leave for Naboo tomorrow. There are some trade negotiations coming up concerning military manufacturers, including Kuat-Entralla, and I need to prepare away from the local busybodies. I could use your expertise.”

That had Armitage’s attention.

“Tell me,” Kylo said, a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “How do you feel about pissing off your father?”

**Author's Note:**

> Specific warnings:  
> \- Hux is forced into getting married to Kylo in a one-sided arranged marriage. The sex itself is very dubiously consensual, given that the marriage itself is not, and Hux only agrees under pressure. However, Kylo does not force Hux to do any specific sex acts that Hux doesn't want to do.  
> \- Brendol is abusive to Armitage.
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/asstromechdroid) or [tumblr](https://agent-nemesis.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
